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“What is that, Ayden?” my sister whispers through the darkness.
The only thing I can see is the bright pink ribbon in her hair.
I open my mouth to tell her, but my voice gets lost in the sound of the dripping.
“Ayden, can you hear me?” she whispers. “I think . . . I think it’s blood. Oh, Ayden, I think it’s my blood.”
My eyes snap open as my body trembles from the memory—my sister’s plea for help. I glance at the computer screen and examine the photos closely.
“Where are you, Sadie?” I whisper, my eyes locking on a photo of a house settled on a shallow hill.
I try to picture the people inside it, but my memory shuts down. The strange thing that doesn’t make sense to me is that the house we were trapped in was the one in my neighborhood and not on a hill. That’s where I remember being dropped off by my mother, and that’s where we were picked up, yet sometimes, I see us in other places and wonder if we were moved around somehow.
Overwhelmed with emotion, I leave the computer desk and seek comfort in my guitar. After I get situated on my bed, I pluck the strings with my fingertips and sing aloud, something I only do behind closed doors.
“Burning, burning, burning,
My body is in flames.
The fire igniting,
Burning me with rage.
I want the fire out,
Beg the clouds to drench me in rain.
Yet, when I look up,
The sky is fucking tame, no rain in sight.
So the fire keeps on burning,
Blazing, blazing, blazing,
Until it kills me eternally.”
I frown at my words. With everything going on, I need to pick myself up, not drag myself further down into depression.
What I need is Lyric.
Glancing out my widow, I look over at her house. Her bedroom light is off, which means she’s probably downstairs with her parents. I’m curious what her punishment is, but too nervous to text her and ask. Worried she’ll tell me her parents won’t let her see me again.
Sighing, I reach for my journal and turn to a page I’ve been scribbling in for the last week or so. I place my guitar on my lap again, line my fingers with the strings, and open my mouth.
“Lyric, Lyric, Lyric,
Her name pours through my veins.
Her laughter, her smile,
It’s enough to drive me insane.
The way she looks at me,
It doesn’t make sense
Why she would want me.
I don’t understand.
She’s so beautiful, so wild, so full of light.
Every time we touch,
Everything feels right.
Every time we kiss,
My head spins out of control.
I try to hold on, but I eventually fall.
Falling, falling, falling,
I’m falling into her.
Falling so blindingly, so helpless, so willingly.
Please, God, please, let me keep falling.”
I stop strumming the strings as my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I set the guitar aside and check the incoming message.
The second I see her name, I smile.
Lyric: So, I just had a super awkward safe sex talk that lasted over an hour. What about you? Did you get punished?
I rest against the headboard and type a response.
Me: Ethan kind of the did the same thing with me, only his lasted about fifteen seconds. That’s the only punishment you got? Your dad seemed pissed off.
Lyric: He was freaking out, but honestly, it was kind of funny. I think he’s having issues with me growing up or something. My mom was pretty chillax, though. Which I was kind of surprised about. I mean, she’s usually the one doing all the scolding and punishing, but she seemed more worried that we’re being careful.
Me: You told them that wasn’t an issue, right?”
Lyric: Whoops. I knew I was forgetting something.
Me: Please tell me you’re kidding! Your dad’s never going to let me see you again if he thinks that.
Lyric: You should know that I’m kidding. I like my jokes, but I’m not a liar. And FYI, my dad wasn’t upset because he thought I was sleeping with you. He was upset about the concept of his daughter having sex. They both seemed super relieved that it was you I was caught with and put a lot of the blame on me. I think they think I’m a bad influence on you, which might be kind of true. They like you, dude, even if you did get caught feeling their daughter up.
Me: Still, we should probably be a little bit more careful from now on.
Lyric: I’m good with being careful, just as long as there’s going to be a from now on. You seemed freaked out, shy boy, and that stuff you said about my parents being disappointed that I was with you . . . It makes me sad that you see yourself like that, that you can’t see how good you are.
Me: I’m sorry I freaked out. What can I do to make it up to you?
Lyric: Hmm . . . Let me think. How about admitting that you’re good enough for me?
Me: I’m being serious. I want to make it up to you.
Lyric: And I’m being serious. I want you to say it.
When I don’t respond right away, another text buzzes through.
Lyric: I’m being serious. Say it or else.
I can’t help myself.
Me: Or else what?
Lyric: Ah, I think I’m being challenged.
A pause then another message comes through.
Lyric: If you don’t tell me that you’re good enough for me, I won’t kiss you for a week.
I chuckle.
Me: Fine. I’m good enough for you. There, are you happy?
Lyric: I’m really happy, actually. Not only did I get you to say it, but now I know how much you love my kisses.
Me: You should have known that already.
Lyric: Maybe I did, but it’s nice to know for sure. I have to go. My mom is making me watch a show with them. God knows what it’s about. Probably a tutorial on how to accurately put a condom on or something.
I shake my head, grinning. Leave it to Lyric to get me to smile even when I’ve had the most depressing night.
When we say goodbye, I put my phone away and spend the next hour working on my homework. By the time I fall asleep, I think I’m feeling better until I sink into a nightmare of the woman with hair that matches her blood red fingernails.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
“Close your eyes and prepare yourself, Ayden.” Fingernails slide across my hands, up my arms, and down my chest, making my gut twist with disgust. “I’m going to break you apart and make you bleed.”
Chapter 10
Lyric
